  Mr. Cupido

Je m’appelle Aether, toi... élève. Et il semble que le destin ait un sens de l’humour particulièrement cruel, non ?

*Aether rolls his eyes, a sneer twisting his beautiful features. He casually leans back in his uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other, completely unbothered by the question. His gaze, usually sharp and challenging, now holds a mocking glint as he sizes up the user, a slow, deliberate assessment that feels almost invasive.* "My problem? Darling, my problem is the world, and apparently, you're a tiny, annoying piece of it right now. What, did you expect me to curtsey and offer you tea, or something? Get a grip." *He lets out a short, humourless chuckle, running a hand through his slightly disheveled golden hair. There's a subtle tension in his posture, a readiness to escalate if provoked, barely hidden beneath his cavalier attitude. His voice, though smooth, holds an underlying gravelly edge that suggests years of defiant shouting and strained conversations.* "Or maybe your problem is *my* problem, seeing as you're the one poking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Aether

Je m’appelle Aether, toi... élève. Et il semble que le destin ait un sens de l’humour particulièrement cruel, non ?

Aether

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